


You drive

by nutsforwinter



Series: Close [2]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutsforwinter/pseuds/nutsforwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pull over!” He says it forcefully, without knowing how loud it will be to his hearing partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You drive

_P-U-L-L-O-V-E-R._

Wrench spells the words, trying to appear calm.

Numbers is driving, as always. They've been working together for a few months, but this is their first time on an out-of-state assignment. The trip is six hours each way, and it’s taking them along a rural highway scarcely traveled and in bad need of maintenance. 

The letters go by too quickly for Numbers’ inexperienced eye. He responds with a quizzical downturn of the eyebrows.

“What?” he sees him mouthing.

Wrench’s stomach gives a sickening jolt. His propensity for motion sickness hasn’t been a problem before, when jobs were no farther than a half-hour drive. But now it’s been over an hour, and the old road with potholes and bumps has only made it worse. No more warnings.

“Pull over!” He says it forcefully, without knowing how loud it will be to his hearing partner. 

It must have sounded urgent, because instead of gaping at the sound issuing from the deaf man's throat, Numbers immediately stops the car in its tracks, not even bothering to steer off to the side. 

Wrench is barely able to stumble clear of the car before doubling over and throwing up his breakfast onto the dirt. From the corner of his now teary eye, he sees Numbers striding around the car to see what the problem is. When he is finished retching and his stomach is empty, he straightens up shakily and wipes the tears from his eyes. He turns, ready to for ridicule, disgust, anger. Instead, he finds Numbers hunched over a few feet away, puking. 

When Numbers stands back up, Wrench is surprised to see that his partner looks as sick as he himself feels. Amazingly, though, his facial hair is clean. Wrench frowns and raises his upturned palms in a shrugging motion.

_What’s up with you?_

Wincing, Numbers spells clumsily: _S-M-E-L-L._

Just then, Wrench feels a breeze. The “ _S-M-E-L-L_ ” wafts up, and he wrinkles his nose. But Numbers’ reaction is much worse; he claps his hand to his mouth and flees to the other side of the car. Wrench can see him coughing, but no more fluids escape. His nausea and headache are fading, and he feels well enough to chuckle at the sight of his senior hurriedly washing his mouth out with bottled water. When Numbers sees him approaching, he thrusts the bottle in his direction. Wrench takes it, drinking the rest of the water to soothe his burning throat. 

The sun is high in the sky; time for lunch, except no one is feeling up to it. 

_C-A-R-S-I-C-K?_ Numbers asks, raising his eyebrows.

Wrench nods tersely. He’s a bit miffed that he couldn’t hide his weakness from his partner, on whom he is still trying to make an impression. 

Numbers looks skeptical. _D-R-A-M-A-M-I-N-E._ He suggests. 

Wrench has to keep from rolling his eyes. As if he hasn’t tried. He has suffered his entire life from intense motion sickness, and it wasn’t for lack of experimenting with remedies. 

_Allergic_ , he signs, to make a long story short. He spells it out for Numbers, then repeats the sign. Never a bad time to teach him new words, seeing as how their partnership was supposed to be for the long haul. 

Numbers looks incredulous, and his eyebrows take a while to return to their seats.

 _Why didn’t you tell me?_ he looks almost angry. _About S-I-C-K?_

Wrench stares at the man who hadn’t been observant nor interested enough to realize that he had been saddled with a deaf partner until their second job together. Numbers had been so few of words that Wrench had no need to speak, and Wrench had been too intimidated by the smaller hit man’s frowning countenance to disclose the rather important piece of information. When Numbers did find out mid-assignment, he had blown his top and nearly gotten the both of them killed. 

Wrench continues to look at Numbers, rocking back and forth on his feet, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. He doesn’t know what to say.

Numbers seems to sense Wrench’s thoughts. He sighs through his teeth, his shoulders drooping heavily, and puts his hands on his hips. 

The few minutes that pass in silence seem some of the longest and loudest to Wrench. Finally Numbers untangles his furrowed eyebrows and sighs again. He opens the door on the driver’s side and goes in. Wrench’s heart just about falls to the ground, but Numbers leaves one foot outside, and quickly re-emerges with the keys in his hand. He looks at Wrench for a second, then tosses the keys to him. 

Wrench is so surprised, he barely reacts in time to catch them. 

_If you drive, you won’t be S-I-C-K?_ Numbers asks.

Before he can check himself, Wrench is beaming with gratitude and relief. He nods, then tries to assume a more neutral expression as he shows Numbers the sign for “sick”.

They’re both in the car, buckled in and ready to resume their trip. Wrench starts the engine and is about to put it in gear when Numbers’ hand stops his. He looks up to meet Numbers’ eyes, set below their habitually bent eyebrows. He seems genuinely concerned.

 _Can deaf –_ he stops himself _– can you drive?_

Wrench gives him what he hopes is a blank stare before he floors the accelerator, sending Numbers flying back into his seat.


End file.
